- From Fly Creek
From Fly Creek: For help with the smug
I’ve been having much fun lately, friends, writing a short book called “Saints for Special Needs,” completely fictional characters whomight get us thinking about humanity—and ourselves, in particular. Here’s a sample. Let me know your reaction. (Oh, and I have a fine cartoonist to illustrate the book!) [Almost every culture has a place for “the wise fool,” the vacant sort of person who, in fact, has a witty and trenchant view of humanity, and may even see into its future.]
From Fly Creek: Revving up for spring
Time to bring you up to date on Fly Creek’s happy clambering into Spring. First, the eatery scene. “Is Jerry’s open yet?” The answer is, “Oh, yes!” The porches are freshly stained; the lawns a uniform green, and the hop vines are already climbing the posts on the covered side deck. Blue and I went up there to lunch earlier this week, and I celebrated spring with my traditional bacon, onion and Swiss cheese hamburger. We two sat on the deck, enjoying the broad view and some spectacular clouds marching across, up toward Schuyler Lake.
From Fly Creek: Ya really wanna know?
SETTING: Fly Creek General Store. CAST: Assorted seated geezers, drinking coffee. [Door opens, enter heavy-set geezer; walking slowly with wide stance, maybe prostatitis.]
From Fly Creek: For reasons unknowable
[Jim’s reached back to 2002 to share one of his favorite columns.] My father was born as the last century began into a river village in tidewater Maryland. He told me once of a man there in his boyhood who, like so many, made a thin living tonging for oysters in the cold months and, in the hot and humid ones, crabbing and raising vegetables.
From Fly Creek: A graceful crowd
Make of this what you will, friends. I feel I’m really meant to share it with you. Despite good medication for my Parkinsonism, every four or five weeks I can sensethe symptoms building up on me, giving me more than ordinary trouble. Lately it’s been falls, and last week brought a typical one. I’d gone out to get the paper, moving along with penguin steps on the snowcoved ice patches, and usingmy spike-tipped cane the waya climber uses an ice axe. But circumstances overcame me. Parkinson’s wipes out the possibility of multi-tasking.
From Fly Creek: What you need to know
In their last Sunday’s bulletins, all 84 churches of Otsego County were to have carried announcements of an important meeting; most of them did. But because the announcement is so important, and not just to the churched, here it is again.
From Fly Creek: Late-winter hamlet news
Well, at least I’m “guessing” it’s late winter now — in the winter that wasn’t. But, if not snow, I can provide a flurry of Fly Creek news to share with you, scooping Associated Press, Reuter’s, and United Press International, not to mention all local news services except our General Store.
From Fly Creek: About that rabbit
The headline above suggests that I should hold this column until Easter. But if you can remember back two weeks (as I can, dimly), you’ll recall that I was going to tell you about a really helpful rabbit. Not the wacko one with Alice at the tea party, but a bunny that’s really helped me with signing checks and such.
From Fly Creek: Cheers for the Blue Rabbit!
My handwriting’s always been an embarrassment. Way back in elementary school, while most of the others were developing a clear, sometimes graceful hand (especially the girls), my penmanship showed no improvement.
From Fly Creek: Now wait a minute!
On the ninth day of Christmas, driving down Cooperstown’s Eagle Street, I saw something astounding! No, not “nineladies dancing, eight maids a-milking, seven swans” etc. I saw one jogger jogging. And puffing on a cigarette.
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- From Fly Creek: For help with the smug